Reprieve
by ricochette
Summary: John needs Nancy's help with one last mission - and the two eventually realize that everything must come full circle.  Post-S5.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Please read "A Curtain, Drawn" and "Exit, Stage Left". They're basically one shot prequels to this story. **

I hope you enjoy my writing and find some time to review and let me know what you think. As I've set this story in October of 2010, it clearly takes place after Atlantis has returned to Earth. I'm operating under the assumption that Atlantis will still be on Earth at this point in time.

**Disclaimer:** I own only what you do not recognize. This disclaimer covers the entirety of my fiction. Similarly, all errors are my own.

**Chapter 1**

**October, 2010**.

Rosa Esquivel focused her attention on a stain that was currently plaguing her favorite client's rug. The rug was the perfect shade of green, picked with an eye for detail. Every item in Nancy Stevens' living room fit into a grander design scheme. The colors were clearly produced to create a calming effect – a place to retreat from a long day at work. The stain on the carpet was rather tragic: Nancy had spilled a steaming cup of hazelnut coffee on the rug, distorting the perfect design that had made the rug so perfect in the first place.

"So sorry, Rosa" was written in neat script on the notepad on Nancy's marble counter. She usually left Rosa $120, but the she threw in an extra $20 for the trouble of having to get on all fours and scrub the hell out of the heavy rug. Nancy was not a clumsy woman, Rosa knew, so she reasoned that something must have happened to cause such an accident.

At approximately 6:17 earlier that morning, Nancy received a phone call. Confident that it was a telemarketer from an overseas work station – an employee unaware, of course, that it was 6:17 in Washington, D.C. – Nancy let the call go to voicemail. The caller wasn't a telemarketer, much to Nancy's surprise.

The voice that she heard play through her phone's speaker made her brown eyes widen. She hadn't heard his voice in so long – so long, in fact, that Nancy dropped her favorite china cup in disbelief.

"Good morning… Nance… I'm… I need your help." John Sheppard's voice had a power over her which she refused to admit. "I wouldn't call unless it's important." He added quietly.

Nancy had expected that after Patrick Sheppard's wake – and the snooping that she did for John afterwards – that he'd have more of a presence in her life. She had gathered that he was involved in something big and top secret – but she had also expected that he wouldn't be entirely off the radar. The way he ran his hand through his hair as they walked through that Washington park discussing government business made her swoon.

And that wasn't to say that she didn't try to impress him at the wake. She had anticipated that he would find a way to show up, one way or another – and she sure as hell made sure she was wearing a form fitting skirt suit, her favorite lingerie, and a lingering vanilla aroma. She had wanted him to notice her – to think of her positively rather than negatively – so she had _tried_ to appeal to him. She didn't know that he noticed – and she didn't notice him trying _not_ to notice.

That had been two years ago, however: two long years that seemed to have little purpose. Advancement within the Department of Homeland Security seemed to procure few rewards for Nancy Stevens: as she immersed herself in work to rise to the top of the departmental food chain, her relationships with friends and family suffered. After the relationship with Grant ended as per his request, Nancy plugged up the void with work and more work, amassing a vast amount of unspent vacation days.

Nancy was brought back to the present as she looked down at the carpet and eyed the growing brown stain on her favorite green carpet.

"God damn it!" she cursed aloud, as she ran to the phone. She knew that John was still on the line. Deep down, he was a patient man; Nancy knew this incredibly well. He also knew that he was a persistent man with an extensive network of connections. Missing the call would no doubt be met with an Air Force or an intelligence officer at her door within the next twenty minutes. Nancy sighed, unsure of what would come of the phone call, and picked up the phone.

"John." Nancy barely uttered, almost out of breath.

"I didn't want to involve you in this…" John started, truly unsure of how to talk to his ex wife.

"But you did." Nancy sighed as she brought the phone to her couch and sat down. "What do you need?" she added in earnest, making it clear that she was willing to bend the rules to help him.

"I can't discuss this over the phone because I'm not sure who's behind a… problem… that I'm currently dealing with." John hated talking to Nancy in this fashion; it reminded him of the dirty feeling he had when he came home from missions and couldn't bear to tell his wife about what he saw.

"Should I plan to meet you at our old spot at 1:30?" Nancy asked quietly, mentally taking note that she would be taking her lunch at 1:30.

"I was hoping you'd say that." John smiled as he replied. "I mean, the cloak and dagger get up is worth the hamburger, right?" Nancy chuckled, all the while remarking that she missed John's sense of humor. She had missed it a lot.

"Some things never change." Nancy said with a laugh. "I'll see you then." Both aware that the conversation was over, they hung up and began to go about their separate mornings.

At 9:50, Rosa Esquivel looked down at the carpet which was back to its original color. She sighed as she knew that something had happened to her favorite client that morning – and she only hoped that it had nothing to do with Grant Andrews.

**October, 1999**.

The weather in Washington, D.C., had been much chillier than Nancy Stevens had anticipated. A cold breeze danced through the air pulling orange leaves down in its wake. Nancy pulled her light jacket tightly across her body in a feeble attempt to stay warm. She had been embarrassed to admit that she was lost in a new city, unsure of her surroundings, and really hungry. Motivated by the pangs she felt in her stomach, Nancy walked into the first dining establishment that she chanced upon.

Springsteen's Diner sat to the left of an old antique store that sold cheap, old imitations of pieces of furniture that were popular in the 19th century. To the right of the diner was a Chinese laundry – famous for its cheap prices and inability to return two matching socks. As Nancy walked into the diner, she instantly regretted her decision.

The walls were bright red and featured various pictures of American flags and Bruce Springsteen paraphernalia.

"You've got to be kidding me…" Nancy muttered under her breath, smiling as she walked up to the hostess stand.

"Meeting somebody for dinner?" the hostess asked, eager to be done with her shift and head home for the evening. The diner was packed, however, full of hungry Washingtonians.

"Nope. Just the one." Nancy replied casually to the young hostess. The hostess grabbed a menu and brought Nancy to a small booth in the middle of the diner. Nancy thanked the girl and sat down.

The diner was noisy and full of life, a stark contrast to the antiques store and the Chinese laundry it was wedged in between. Nancy perused the menu quickly, motivated by the hunger she felt deep within her stomach. A server quickly came over and brought a cup of water to the table.

"Anything to drink, miss?" The server asked quickly, whipping out a white pad and a pen.

"I'll give you my entire order." Nancy replied in an equal speed. "Coffee and a hamburger, medium rare, with a side of fries." The waiter looked at the young woman sitting at his table and breathed a sigh of relief – finally, he had a customer that was no nonsense.

Nancy whipped out copy of the newspaper that she had been storing in her tote bag and began to read. Ever since she arrived in Washington a week earlier, she had been eager to find an apartment that she could turn into her home.

A cup of coffee was placed in front of her, and Nancy methodically thanked the server and began to prepare the coffee, barely averting her eyes from the paper. She smiled as the smell of the coffee rose up through the air and invaded her nostrils. Nancy became lost in the mixture of coffee and the newspaper, only brought out of her reverie by the sound of plate being placed in front of her. She thanked the server again and put down her newspaper, reading all the while she was eating. She continued undisturbed for a good ten minutes, casually sipping on her coffee and nursing her dinner.

"Is this seat taken?" a male voice said above her, breaking her concentration. Nancy barely looked up from her newspaper, as she had been lost in the apartment listings section.

"If you must." She replied with little concern, although deep down she was slightly annoyed. There had been, after all, a hostess station with a line and a wait list. What made this guy think he was so special that he could just cut the line and go up to a random table with an empty seat and sit down? Nancy couldn't make herself look at the man – she hadn't been in the mood. The guy probably got everything he wanted served to him on a silver platter.

John Sheppard smirked. He wore his black BDU shirt and a pair of jeans that he was barely able to change into before he got off of his Apache helicopter in a northern part of Virginia. Sixteen hours ago, he had been knee deep in a swamp in Guatemala. He had wanted a hamburger for the past nineteen hours and thirty minutes. He slumped down in the red booth bench across from the pretty young brunette.

The waiter promptly came over to the table and sent John a knowing smile. Nancy looked up at the waiter with a sense of annoyance – this guy across from her had just sat down and already he was getting better service than she was!

"Rough day at the office, John?" the waiter asked, looking down at John.

"Eh, Norm, you could say that." John replied with a raised eyebrow. "The routine drill – worked on the tan, did a little surfing, you know how it is." He stretched his arms out and sighed, saying those words darkly – a change in intonation that was not lost on Nancy. "I'll have the usual."

Nancy Stevens kept her eyes glued to her paper, trying her best not to look at the man sitting across from her. When she had finally decided to steal a glance at him, she had discovered that he was frighteningly handsome.

"Anything good in that paper?" John asked slyly as a busboy placed a cup of hot coffee and a glass of water in front of him.

Nancy finally looked up at John and their eyes met for the first time. He flashed her a smirk and ran a hand through his hair. Her brown eyes were striking and compelling; John felt as if the woman was reading into the depths of his very soul.

"Not much." Nancy placed the paper down as she saw her plate of food being brought toward the table. The man's questions made her feel slightly self conscious – and she didn't know why. She didn't feel like chatting with him. The last man she had chatted with casually – and this was a few months back – had turned out to be a total jerk that she couldn't trust. The last thing she needed in a new city was to set herself up for a fall. Nancy hoped the conversation would end there.

"Well, the apartment section isn't very interesting, is it? Myself? I prefer the Weekend Section." John talked, not wanting to stop. He had seen the pretty brunette from across the diner when he strolled in earlier. There had been plenty of other booths with only one or two people sitting at them – but he wanted to sit across from the woman at _this _table. The table, after all, was _his_ table.

"That's great." Nancy answered tersely, wondering why the man was interested in her. John took the hint and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Nancy took out a pen and looked down at the apartment listings, hoping to find places worth circling. She circled a few that sounded decent in Arlington, where she decided would be close to her new job. The thought of working in the Pentagon thrilled her beyond belief. She felt so honored to have such an opportunity in a new city. The apartment search was the coup de grace, as it would be the first time she'd be able to afford her own apartment without having to rely on a roommate to help with rent.

John squinted at some of the listings that the woman had circled and took a sip from his coffee.

"That's not the best part of Arlington," John started to say, placing his cup of coffee down on the table. "Crime rate's pretty high – violent crime. You'd stick out like a sore thumb." Nancy rolled her eyes at his words.

"Thanks for your concern, but I can take care of myself." She really felt uncomfortable by the attractive man across from her! However, after she had taken in the man's words, she crossed out one of the apartment listings she had previously circled. This was not lost on John. He chuckled. "Can I help you?" Nancy asked him with a pointed look, annoyed at his intrusion.

"Tell me your name." John said with a smile. Again, he ran a hand through his hair – a gesture he did without even realizing.

"Excuse me?" Nancy said, putting her fork down on her plate. "Why are you so interested?" She instantly became defensive and began to build a wall around herself. This guy could easily be a scam artist… but then again, the waiter seemed to know him… and he had a steady job, from what she heard…

"I'm John." He said with a vibrant smile. "John Sheppard. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." Nancy almost coughed with a sense of disbelief. Was this guy for real? She sensed, however, that he was harmless… and terribly charming. Nancy reluctantly caved in to John's charm.

"Nancy Stevens." She offered with a sense of caution. John could feel, however, that she was becoming less tense in his presence.

"And I'm assuming, Nancy Stevens, that you're new to this swamp of a city." John took a sip out of his cup of coffee. "Judging by the apartment hunt and your faint New England accent…"

"You're an observant one, John." Nancy commented dryly. John looked at her with a sense of amusement and smirked.

"You're apprehensive about me," he started. "You don't like how I just sat down at your table, and it's not just because I invaded your personal space. You're more upset about how I broke the rules and cut the line at the hostess stand. You're left handed. I can tell by the way you use your fork. You're afraid of not fitting in. When you're amused, your smile curves more to the left." John smirked as he took another sip of coffee. "And, even though you don't wanna admit it, I can tell that you're trying not to smile right now." Nancy smirked at John – and her lips curved more to the left.

"You're…" Nancy began to say… "I don't know. It's late and I've been running around like an idiot all day. I don't have anything witty left to say to you." She reluctantly admitted, unsure of why she was letting her guard down in front of a complete stranger. She chuckled slightly, finding the situation rather absurd. John found her laugh intoxicating – and dangerous. He felt like he had lucked into this one, with the pretty young woman sitting at _his_ favorite table.

Nancy had finished her food long before John had finished his, but she felt compelled to sit and continue reading her paper. John took note of this as he continued to eat his food. He sighed as he looked at his watch and saw that it was getting late. He had to be up at four the next morning to catch a flight to Afghanistan, though he desperately wanted to linger at Springsteen's Diner. As if Nancy had sensed something was about to happen, she averted her eyes from her newspaper and looked at the man sitting across from her. John held her gaze. The sensation was strange – and new – and incredibly compelling.

A loud sound from the kitchen of the diner brought Nancy back to reality. Slightly embarrassed, she went back to reading her newspaper. John smiled. This woman was different, he realized. There was something about her that he had never seen before. Moments later, Nancy rose and went off to the bathroom. John looked at his watch with a sense of regret and dismay. He quickly took Nancy's pen and scribbled something down in large handwriting on a napkin and put it by her cup of coffee. After he did so, John went to go pay for his meal and left the diner.

The changing leaves were illuminated by the lights that danced on the Potomac. John felt, at that very moment, that he had just encountered somebody who had the potential to change his life. He had never felt that way before – and, at 29 years old – he was a grown man. He felt foolish. Foolish or not, he had liked the encounter. He smiled to himself as he saw his black sedan pull up to the curb. Opening the door, he stepped inside and his driver took him back to Quantico.

Nancy Stevens returned to her table with a slight sense of disappointment. She had hoped that John would still be sitting down when she returned. A large white napkin next to her coffee caught her attention, however.

'_This time, next week. This table._' Nancy's cheeks reddened as she read his handwriting. She quickly took the napkin and put it into one of the pockets of her tote bag, hoping that nobody saw her. She felt silly – almost as if she was a school girl or a college freshman once again.

Moments later, the waiter went up to Nancy and refilled her cup of coffee.

"I'll take the check whenever you have a moment." She said with the smile.

"That won't be necessary. Mr. Sheppard took care of it."

"He did?" Nancy asked with a sense of shock.

"He said it was the least he could do for the woman sitting at _his_ table." The waiter replied with a knowing smile.

"_His _table?" Nancy enquired. She had wondered why he chanced upon her the moment that he sat down in front of her.

"John sits at this table every Tuesday at eight thirty." The waiter explained as he topped off Nancy's coffee. "Whenever he's in town – you know, not off working – this is part of his routine. It's been this way for… I don't know, the past two years? John's a really good man."

As Nancy left the restaurant moments later, she pondered what the waiter had meant. What sort of job took John out of the D.C. area for long periods of time? It puzzled her. The words of the waiter, however, had been comforting.

When Nancy was nineteen years old, she took on a job as a waitress at a local bar and restaurant. After about two months at her job, she realized that waiters had an uncanny ability to judge people accurately. She'd see all sorts of people – apprehensive people on first dates, people in the middle of arguments. She saw people at their worst and at their best. If anything, she learned from her short career in the service industry that the waiter or waitress saw everything. If this waiter – a man Nancy had just met – could say, in earnest, that John was a good person – she believed him.

The man you see at his hungriest when he comes home from a tough day at work is the man you get. And if John, a random stranger, was somebody who was 'a really good man' when he was tired, hungry, and worn down? She believed the waiter was correct with all of her heart. Years later, she would look back on her short walk to that bus stop – on that very evening – that she had realized she chanced upon an extraordinary person.

**October 2010**.

Nancy Stevens sighed as she walked into Springsteen's Diner. Sometimes, she felt as if fate had an uncanny way of bringing John Sheppard to her – sooner or later, she always ended up facing him, unsure of how to handle herself. When she first met him, she had been struck by his sense of humor and his drive. When she had fallen in love with him, she had been held captive by his ability to care for somebody, even at their worst. When she had divorced him, she did so with a heavy heart because she was still deeply in love with John. And when she walked into Springsteen's Diner to meet John to discuss intelligence, she admitted to herself that she wanted to talk to him very badly.

She sighed as she realized that eleven years had passed since she first met him. She touched the skin on her face as she thought of the number 'eleven'. It made her feel old, even though she looked incredibly youthful thanks to a steady regimen of exercise, SPF 30, and water.

The hostess at the diner was different, but still had the same teenage attitude.

"Two for," Nancy rolled her eyes as she continued. "Sheppard's table."

The hostess looked at Nancy with a sense of confusion.

"Norm… Is he still running this place? He would know." The girl's eyes widened at the mention of the owner of the restaurant. She ran off to find Norm Leibovitz, a man who still looked the same way he did eleven years prior.

"If it isn't Nancy Sheppard!" A portly man cried out in a still-thick German accent. Nancy cringed.

"Stevens." She corrected him. "Nancy Stevens."

"But you're still coming here to meet John at his table, eh?" He chuckled as he grabbed two menus and showed Nancy to the table. It was a largely symbolic gesture, as she obviously knew exactly where the table was. They had made that spot part of their routine – it was where they went to feel normal, to escape from work, and to see each other.

Nancy wondered if John would be there before her. She looked down at her feet as she walked to the table, unsure if she was ready to finally see John again. Whenever she looked into his eyes, she was brought back to 1999. He was one of the only men who made her feel vulnerable. As she felt herself getting close to the table, she looked up. She saw John sitting upright, reading through a newspaper.

Without saying a word, Nancy sat down at the table. John immediately tore his eyes away from his paper and looked up at her. Nancy cursed inwardly – those eyes always had the same silly effect on her. She felt weak and needy, though she knew she wasn't. She felt like a young girl again.

"Nance." John simply stated, unsure of how to speak to her. "It's.."

"Been a long time, John." She finished the sentence for him. Norm came over and brought two cups of coffee. Before Nancy could open her mouth to order, John cut her off.

"He's bringing out the usual in about ten minutes." John smiled slightly and took a sip from his coffee.

"How have you been doing, John?" Nancy inquired in earnest. "Taking care of yourself?" He wanted to tell her the truth: he had wanted to tell her that he was stationed on Earth again. He wanted to tell her everything.

"You could say that." John paused. "I'm… I've got a much easier, safer assignment. I'm working out of San Francisco."

"You're stationed at Travis Air Force Base?" Nancy asked with a raised eyebrow. "That's a bit _tame_ for you."

"I'm getting old." John joked, taking another sip from his coffee.

"That wouldn't stop the John Sheppard I know." Nancy smirked. "You'll fly planes until they won't let you in the cockpit anymore." John chuckled as Nancy said this – as he had been nearly banned from entering to the cockpit numerous times. Nancy was well aware of this. Though she never spoke of it with John, she was deeply proud of him. When he stood up to the man and did what was right, she did so vicariously through him.

"I'm sure the Air Force hates me for that." John commented. His eyes then darkened a bit, realizing that he eventually had to get around to their topic of discussion. Nancy understood this immediately. She and John could speak to each other without words – with a certain glance or a specific gesture they became all too aware of what the other was thinking.

Before Nancy could say anything, Norm brought out their lunch. Sensing that they were having what some would call a 'moment', he nodded and walked off eager to leave them undisturbed.

"I believe we have some business to attend to, John." Nancy picked up a bottle of ketchup and put some of it on her fries and burger. "You needed something from me," she added.

"Ah, that." John took the bottle when she was done and he began to shake it ever so slightly, causing the perfect amount of tomato ketchup to land on his plate. "Have you heard of the Pegasus Project?"

Nancy shook her head.

"It's a… _secret _military base… let's say… that's funded by the government and run under the command of the Air Force." John paused. He wanted to tell her about Atlantis – and it killed him that he couldn't. "To cut a _long_ story short, a few people with a lot of pull in the military are beginning to ask questions. They want to about Pegasus – they want to know why a significant amount of money is being routed there."

"Where do I come in, John?" Nancy asked, curious as to how she fit into all of this.

"You have access to the computer where information about this spending is being stored." John said as he ran a hand through his hair. He meant to make it sound like this wasn't a big deal… he didn't want to upset Nancy.

"I _really_ don't like where this is going." Nancy pursed her lips and felt herself sigh inwardly.

"I didn't think you would." John said, picking up a French fry and putting into his mouth.

"You want me to risk my job _again?_" Nancy looked at him, staring him down. "You're working at this base, aren't you?"

John looked at her and he didn't answer. His silence betrayed him.

"You are." Nancy shook her head. "Damn it, John!" Deep down, she knew she would capitulate. "What if I say I won't help you?"

"Then two men with decorated Air Force uniforms are going to show up at your apartment tonight, invite themselves in, and make it pretty clear that you don't have a choice." John paused. "I preferred this option." John looked directly into her eyes to make this point clear.

"How far up does this order go?" Nancy inquired.

"Straight to the President." Nancy's eyes widened at John's admission. Then again, hearing that this was a direct order from the President of the United States… well… _that _wasn't so bad. Nancy sighed. Deep down, she liked the idea of helping John. She hated the secrecy, however. The secrecy made her feel like was lost – and she was nothing more than a pawn.

"How am I supposed to help you?" Nancy asked, cutting to the chase. John pulled a USB flash drive out of his pocket and placed it on the table. He slid it across the table so that it was right in front of Nancy's plate.

"A coworker made a program that'll do all of the work for you. You need to stick the drive into a computer that can access the main computer system. It will launch a program that will begin deleting files and making new ones to replace them… so it looks like nothing's been touched." This coworker, of course, was Dr. Rodney McKay. _She better not put that program to waste, Sheppard!_ John heard Rodney's frantic words playing over and over in his head.

"John, it's the Pentagon – not some office supply company! We keep records of all access to computers – and we record which employees accessed files – or _changed _them."

"We've got you covered. The President authorized the creation of a username and password – under a phony name – so you could log in."

"God damn it." Nancy muttered under her breath. "When do you need this done by?"

"As soon as possible." John took a sip from his cup of coffee. "Certain members of the government and military don't quite like the idea of funding the base – they think it's the bureaucratic equivalency of flushing money down the toilet." John looked into Nancy's eyes. Nancy saw before her a man who deeply cared about his work.

"What do you think?" Nancy asked in a quiet voice. "Is the base a waste of funding? Do you believe in what you do?" John's vision sharpened and Nancy could feel him staring into her soul.

"What I do – what we do on that base – is the most important work I've ever been involved in. That base _cannot_ shut down." Nancy saw within John a sense of burning passion – burning passion that she missed dearly. The last time she had seen it, she was sitting next to him on a park bench after his father's funeral and wake. He seemed so lonely, yet so full of life and regret. Nancy could see the regret eating at him. After he left, she walked around the park by herself for the better part of an hour: until her feet got sore in her high heels. She had used the mental image of Grant as a means of not getting too emotionally absorbed with his passion.

The two finished eating, stealing glances at each other every now and then. A busboy came over to the table and replenished their cups of coffee.

John glanced at her hands as he did when she first sat down. He had wanted to say something when they first began to talk, but he didn't think it would be appropriate to dive right into the topic. When he had seen her at that park a few years ago, Nancy had been wearing an engagement ring. He had expected that she'd be wearing both the diamond ring and a gold band on her finger – but he saw neither items of jewelry.

"So…" John couldn't help himself from asking. He had waited too long. "How's the family? How's… Gary?" Nancy lips twitched up into a smirk – had John said the wrong name on purpose?

"You mean Grant? He divorced me." She took a sip from her coffee cup and continued. "Something about me spending a little too much time at the office… although I suspect it had something to do with the blonde secretary at _his_ office."

"I could kill him!" John muttered under his breath in a barely audible tone.

Nancy wondered if she heard John correctly; she pretended that she had heard nothing.

"How long are you in town for?" Nancy asked, changing the subject.

"Until next week."

"One week? That's a lot of time for this project." Nancy raised an eyebrow in John's direction.

"I'm also here to tie up some loose ends. I have some unfinished business." John looked down at his cup of coffee. Nancy felt a warm feeling within her – _unfinished business_ meant a lot of things.

"Speaking of business…" Nancy looked down at her Blackberry and made note of the time. "I have to get back to the Pentagon." She took out her wallet and began to take money out to pay for the meal. John took her wallet and tossed it back into her tote bag – this made Nancy laugh. She had missed John's antics.

"My treat." He smirked as he pulled a dark leather wallet out of his jacket. He placed his credit card on the table. His gesture wasn't lost on Norm, who quickly came up to take the card and run it. After Norm left, John turned his attention Nancy.

"You say you can do this as soon as possible?" John asked, referring to the flash drive that was now in Nancy's tote bag.

"By tomorrow at the latest." Norm then returned to the table with John's credit card receipt. John pulled out a business card – he actually had them printed for this specific occasion – and handed into Nancy.

"Give me a call after you run the program, Nance." John smiled as he signed the credit card bill and put his card back in his wallet. "I'm sure everything will be fine…" he added casually, assuaging any fears she may have had. Nancy sighed.

"It will be." Nancy smiled slightly. "I'll call you tonight."

John smiled and ran a hand through his hair. He felt so many things all at once, as if a fire hydrant of emotion had exploded within him. He was angry at himself for never being there for Nancy – just as he was full of regret that things hadn't worked out better. He felt stupid because he had kept her out of the loop – and he felt grateful that she was still willing to help him after all he put her through. He was happy – she had looked just as beautiful as she always had – and he was upset – he hated how he had to bring her into all of his job-related problems.

John rose up from the table and Nancy repeated the gesture. Norm nodded at them as they made their way out of the diner and onto the street. A black sedan was waiting for Nancy on the curb – she had to get back to the Pentagon fast if she wanted to complete her work and have time to upload the program into its computer system.

Nancy looked up at John – she had missed how he stood tall next to her – and smiled slightly.

"Even though I'm putting my neck on the line _again_ for you… I'm glad to have seen you." John nodded and looked down at Nancy. Briefly, he wanted to hug her. He wanted to relive the memory of holding her in his arms and convincing her that everything would be okay.

"I am too, Nance." John sighed and his eyes grew dark. "I'm… I'm sorry about everything." As he admitted this, Nancy looked into his eyes.

"John… that isn't necessary." She was unsure of how to respond to him. "I'll call you tonight, okay?" Nancy walked toward the black sedan and opened the door. John watched Nancy retreat into the vehicle. As she pulled the car door closed, she wondered whether or not she would see John again. Just when she was getting adjusted to his presence, her sense of comfort was always uprooted. He was always gone – usually in the middle of the night – and there was rarely an explanation.

She had desperately hoped that she wouldn't have to take him with a grain of salt this time around – something about his new job and his new place of employment seemed… _reassuring_. Yes, Nancy thought, that was the word. Reassuring. She felt like for the first time in a very long time, she would see him again.

As Nancy's sedan pulled away from the curb, John watched the black car until it faded from site. Once again, the hustle and bustle of Washington, D.C. rushed past him while he stood still, trying to collect his thoughts. Seeing Nancy was like opening Pandora's Box – and it pained him every time. It was a double edged sword – beautiful, yet so goddamned full of regret. Everything reminded him of something he should or should not have done.

John walked back to his hotel that afternoon – it took him two hours. He spent much of the time thinking about his life and what he had accomplished – along with so many of the things that he had lost. Once, Washington had been a living, breathing part of John Sheppard. Now, it was a ghost – a distant memory – that he felt pleasure in reliving. As most good things are in this world, the pleasure was tainted with pain: the pain of loss, the pain of regret, and the pain of knowing that you've left things behind.

**A/N:**Please review. This is the only way writers on get paid. It also keeps my writing juices flowing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: This has been TOO LONG! Sometimes, when I'm really busy with "real life" I get sidetracked and I avoid . I'm back! Hopefully I'll update soon! I'm really motivated to work on this story… I have some pretty good ideas for it.

Disclaimer: I own my own writing… including my own errors. Nothing else, you got it?

As always, enjoy… and don't forget to leave a review and show some love. ;)

**Chapter 2**

It was the sixth time in forty seven minutes that Nancy Stevens looked down at her watch to check the time. She had four hours left to upload John's program into the computer system at the Pentagon. There was something really dirty about the whole thing: she felt as if she was committing a supreme act of espionage within her own place of employment.

The way John phrased everything, though, appealed to her desire to serve the greater good. By saying that this whole thing was ordered by the President himself, John struck a chord within Nancy. She would have helped him anyways, though, and they both knew that. And it wasn't because Nancy was considered weak or overly malleable – John knew that, deep down, Nancy had a compelling sense of right and wrong that would lead her to act.

A few open reports sat on Nancy's desk; she had finished reading them prior to meeting with John for lunch. Nancy began to file them in her desk along with other "Non-Credible Threats" – a term she reserved for problems that were reported by individuals with absolutely no access to the information they were attempting to make her aware of. One was about an alleged terrorist ring in Irvine, California – the other about "suspicious" activity in Ames, Iowa.

Nancy then began to organize the rest of her desk, all the while thinking about which computer she would access later in the day. There was no way that she could upload the documents in her own office… that would have drawn too much attention to her. Nancy felt silly, but she even had a pair of wool gloves in her desk drawer that she planned on using while typing on the Pentagon's computers. She didn't' want to leave fingerprints – she was desperate not to get caught.

She looked over her office and took a mental inventory of everything that surrounded her. The office was big – she was a Director now – and she even had two windows. She felt ridiculous even thinking it, but she actually mentally asked herself, 'is it worth risking all of this?' Surveying her office once more, she decided that _yes_ – it was.

Nancy's knowledge of the Pegasus Project was limited at best. She knew that it was top secret, incredibly well-covered up, extremely expensive, and on the budget chopping block. She also knew that what she would be doing was something she considered highly undemocratic – hiding funding from people. Again, this made her question her actions. Are there some things worth breaking the rules for? Are there some things that exist within the greater good – and should these things be protected?

She couldn't help but answer yes.

And then there were those, she thought, who saw Pegasus as something that was absolutely essential to safety and security – her ex-husband included.

With those thoughts, Nancy resigned herself to planning how she would go about illegally uploading a computer program before the end of her work day.

x.x.x.

John Sheppard stood in front of a snack truck and picked up two cups of hot coffee. He knew, deep down, that the coffee would be bad – but he and General O'Neill weren't looking for coffee. They were looking for two twelve ounce excuses to sit down on a park bench and casually discuss the merits of infiltrating the computer system at the Pentagon and, essentially, lying to the public.

"Sir." John said, as he handed a cup of coffee to the General.

"Lieutenant Colonel." Jack said, almost laughing as he took the cup of coffee from John's hands.

"Sir?" John said, quirking an eyebrow up, surprised by the General's laughter.

"I'm sorry, John. It's just… _really_ funny." He took a sip from his cup of coffee and winced. "Almost as funny as me being a General. Funny how that all works out, y'know?" He took another sip from his cup and winced again. "This is a pretty crappy cup of coffee."

"You learn to appreciate the smaller things in life out in Pegasus." John sad sarcastically as he took a sip of his cup, and winced all the same. "Eh. It's a step up from the paint thinner that the cooks on Atlantis used to mask as coffee when we weren't in the Milky Way."

"I'll be sure to tell the Stargate Program to up their game, then." Jack and John began to walk toward a park bench that was relatively out of the way of passersby. The two men sat down. "There comes a time in your career when you realize where your loyalty lies," Jack started, suddenly becoming serious. It was a strange sight for John to behold. "You realize, deep down, that your loyalty lies to the people who you serve – the people who you protect – and not so much to the people you work under. There's the people you work under – the people who you salute – and then there's the people who work for – the people you help, you protect, you keep out harm's way. Sometimes, the desires of the people who you work under coincide with the needs of those who you protect – and that's great. That's when everything works. Sometimes…" Jack paused.

"Sometimes the situation needs to be worked around." John supplied, knowing full well what that entailed. It seemed fitting to be having this conversation with Jack O'Neill – the two, after all, had built a career on duty, obeying the rules, and then amending them to the needs of the situation.

"Bottom line is, this job is real. There are decisions you have to make – and the choices impact everybody. The Stargate Program is…" Jack sighed. "Necessary. And you, when you talked to Nancy Stevens, did what you had to do."

John cringed.

"Permit me to lecture you, Lieutenant Colonel. You did the right thing. I know what type of man you are – I can see a lot of me in you. You didn't want to get her involved. It was a last resort. I understand your hesitation. There are things in this world – things that people don't understand – that are worth everything. Atlantis is one of those things." Jack looked down at his watch and sighed with a sense of irritation. "For cryin' out loud!"

John looked at Jack with an amused smile.

"I have to get back to that five-sided circus otherwise known as the Pentagon." Jack threw his coffee cup nonchalantly into the trash can next to the bench. "You did the right thing, Lieutenant Colonel. Don't forget that."

"Thank you sir," John said as he rose to see off Jack O'Neill. Jack smiled and walked towards the street, where there was a black sedan waiting for him.

x.x.x.x.

There was a strange sense of calm throughout Nancy's office. Nancy sat at her desk and gazed over a report that filled the computer screen in front of her. She occasionally looked down at her watch to monitor the time. The day felt like it would never end.

"Director Stevens," came a voice through the speaker on her telephone. It was the voice of her sarcastic secretary Jane. Jane had been the one who told Grant to get the hell out of Nancy's office when Nancy had been too upset to see him. Jane had been the one who saw Nancy come in one afternoon – the afternoon that she saw John two years ago – and offered her a really good cup of coffee after seeing that she was stressed. Jane, simply put, was too good for her job.

"Yes, Jane?" The young girl's voice seemed to tear Nancy away from the monotony of reports.

"You have a visitor from the Air Force." Nancy inhaled sharply. "General Jack O'Neill." Nancy sighed, letting out the pent up breath that she had in her lungs. Her disappointment that it wasn't John was soon replaced by a sense of curiosity – why did a decorated general want to speak with her in her office?

"Let him in. Thanks, Jane." Nancy rose from her seat and straightened out her skirt, hoping to look as presentable as possible. As the door opened, she was met with the sight of a youthful – yet older – man. He had a lot of brass on his uniform.

"Ms. Stevens. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Jack O'Neill… I work with Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard." Nancy inwardly choked. She had no idea that John was a Lieutenant Colonel. After the surprise subsided, a feeling of muted pride swelled within her.

"Good afternoon, General. This is quite a surprise." Nancy extended her hand, which Jack took in his. She shook his hand firmly. Jack then turned to close the door behind him. "Please sit down," Nancy offered as she walked to sit behind her desk. "Can I have my secretary bring you some coffee?" 

"There's no need. Thanks, though." Jack sat down and faced Nancy. "I understand that you met with John earlier this afternoon to discuss a computer program." Nancy stiffened. "There's no need to worry – I had advised the President to authorize the computer program. I wanted to come here to thank you for sticking your neck out on the line."

"John made quite the compelling argument, as I'm sure you are aware." Nancy supplied, as she crossed her legs. "Though I'm sure I had little choice."

"You had all the choice in the world. You could have shown the hard drive containing the program to your superiors and told them about everything." Jack looked directly into Nancy's eyes. "But, you didn't."

"I just did -" Nancy started, but was cut off by the general.

"I'm not trying to moralize, Director Stevens. I just wanted to come here to tell you, that when everything is said and done, you'll have done the right thing." Jack looked at her again, but with kind eyes. "And, just so you know, rumor has it that there is an empty office with a computer already set up on the third floor. Room 33-B."

"Rumor has it, eh?" Nancy looked at him with a quirked eyebrow and smiled slightly.

"Rumor also has it that the employees on that floor are going to be in a meeting in about two hours, give or take a low level employee or two. And… the rumor mill also tells me that the security cameras are going to be malfunctioning throughout the day."

"You're quite the gossip, then, General O'Neill." Nancy said with a smile.

"So I've heard." With those words, Jack rose from his chair. "I'll be back later this week, Director Stevens. We'll have more to talk about. And, I'm sure… you'll have some questions to ask."

"That's an understatement, General." Nancy rose and shook Jack O'Neill's hand firmly. Jack replied with a smile.

As Nancy watched Jack walk out of her office, she wondered if she was in over her head. The whole computer-program-mission that Nancy was about to embark on, however, seemed less dirty and underhanded after discussing it with a general. The wool gloves still sat in her desk drawer however, right next to the hard drive with the computer program. Regardless of the general's comforting words, she was going to have an anxious few hours ahead of her.

"Director Stevens," came Jane's voice through her phone's speaker once again. "Hazelnut or French Vanilla coffee today?" Nancy smiled – her secretary was always on top of everything.

"French Vanilla." Nancy replied through the speaker with a smile. Jane would _definitely_ be on her way to a bigger bonus at the end of the year.

x.x.x.x.

The leaves were beginning to turn bright red – and some of them were even beginning to fall down onto the ground, covering the grass along the National Mall. John walked past the monuments, taking everything in. It had been many years since he'd walked through these monuments. He had fought many battles – both physical and mental – and endured many hardships.

The changing leaves only served to remind him of how ephemeral everything was. Time was fleeting – as it always was – and people moved on. He wondered if Nancy had – he wondered if she thought about him and reminisced about the old times. He would often fall asleep in Atlantis to thoughts about her… wondering if she was okay… and then, when he knew about Grant, wondering if he treated her right. Sometimes, it would keep him up at night. Sometimes, he couldn't sleep.

But, he felt the worst when he was running. As he carried his body through the dimly lit halls of Atlantis in the wee hours of the morning, he felt like he had, above all, run away from Nancy without treating her as well as he should have. In retrospect, everything was crystal clear. John, as a result, always had a nagging desire to go back and right everything that he perceived to be wrong.

Men, women, and children walked along the sidewalk on the National Mall – some taking photographs, others stopping to look at monuments, and others just walking by. Some walked by hand in hand. John tried not to look at the other people – when he saw happy families, he knew, deep down, that he thought that he could exist as an island – and he knew, immediately, that he had been wrong.

John continued to walk throughout the Mall silently.

x.x.x.x.

The third floor of the Pentagon was quiet – so quiet, in fact, that Nancy tried not to think too much, for fear that others would hear inside of her head. It was, by all means, too quiet. The silence was strange at the Pentagon, where everybody was always incredibly busy – all at once. The meeting had been a godsend, as it allowed Nancy to get to an unoccupied office and access a computer without people seeing her and asking questions. She tried to remain calm, however, as she was worried that she would get caught – even though the halls were empty.

As she found the office, she collected her thoughts and prepared herself for the task ahead. She put on her wool gloves to open the door – it was unlocked, no doubt General O'Neill's doing, she thought – so that nobody would be able to get her fingerprints. There was no such thing as being too cautious in the Pentagon.

A computer sat at on the office's desk – the desk was strangely barren. It was a strange sight to see an empty office in the Pentagon – it made everything seem so desolate, when in fact, the building was so busy. Nancy kept her gloves on as she typed in the fake username and password that John had given her earlier.

She then reached into her pocket and took out the small hard drive with the computer program. She looked briefly at the hard drive and sighed to herself – it felt odd that something so small contained so many important things and had such an important purpose. Various USB ports were on the computer – Nancy picked the one closest to her hand and connected the hard drive. In less than a second, the program began to write itself into the framework of the Pentagon's computer system.

In less than three minutes, a screen popped up signaling that the transfer had been finished. The three minutes had possibly been the longest of Nancy's career at the Pentagon – she feared, above all, that somebody would walk into the office and halt the transfer of information. Nancy quickly disconnected the hard drive and put it back into her pocket.

She made sure the office was devoid of evidence indicating that anybody had been inside, turned off the computer, and then left, closing the door behind her. She walked casually down the halls, hoping that if she ran into anybody, she wouldn't look suspicious. Nancy then got into the elevator and began her descent to her office on the first floor.

x.x.x.x.

The weather had taken a turn for the worse; grey clouds veiled the sky over Washington. A cold, blustery wind swam throughout the city; October's in D.C. were usually warmer. John sat on the king sized bed in his hotel room and flipped through a newsmagazine, finding himself unable to concentrate on anything.

John glanced at the clock next to his bed. It was six fifteen. Nancy would nearly be at her apartment by now, having completed the uploading of the computer program. He hoped that everything went well… and he contemplated how he would go about thanking Nancy for coming through, once again.

He continued to flip through the newsmagazine, caring little about the pictures and articles spread out through the pages. He began to drift off to sleep, but was sharply brought back to a fully awake state by the ringing of his cell phone.

He looked down at the Blackberry and "Nancy" appeared on the caller ID. He scooped the phone up quickly, but paused for a moment, trying not to seem too eager. After the phone rang for two seconds more, John answered it.

"Hey Nance." He said casually, in a very John Sheppard-esque fashion.

"Hi John." Nancy sighed into the phone. John could hear the fatigue in her voice. "It went well. I have the hard drive on my desk at home now."

"That's fantastic." John paused. "I'm really grateful for what you did… Thanks, Nance. It's… It means a lot." The sincerity in John's words made Nancy smile. She sat down on her cream colored couch and wrapped cashmere blanket around herself. She was tired and chilly.

"Thanks you, John." Nancy said softly. John felt a pool of regret swell within him as he heard her voice. He missed the way she spoke softly. Sometimes, he thought that she reserved that tone of voice only for him – or, at least, he wanted to believe that.

"I just… I'm sorry for involving you in this – and for involving you in that situation last time, two years ago. I'm sorry you had to do that." John paused. "I know you put yourself in a really difficult position for me… and… it meant a lot." Nancy was taken aback by John's words. _Damn him_, Nancy thought. _I miss him so much. _Grant never thanked her like that. Grant was so damned different – he was no John Sheppard.

"Don't worry about it, John. I know it's important – that what you're doing is important." Nancy added quietly and genuinely. 

"I'd like to make it up to you, though." John said. He sat on his bed and ran a free hand through his hair. He was scheming.

"You don't need to, John. It's fine. I didn't do much." Nancy said sheepishly. The doorbell rang – John could hear it through the phone – and Nancy cursed under her breath. "I have to go, John. I'm sorry, but I just remembered that my lawyer agreed to meet with me after she got done at the office." Nancy rose from the couch and walked over to her door. Opening it, she let her lawyer and good friend Julie in. She pointed to her cell phone and mouthed the words 'I'm sorry, one second' all the while ushering Julie into her living room. Nancy walked over to the coffee machine and began to make a fresh pot.

"Alright, then. I'll let you get to that." John shook his head – he wanted more than that. "Have a good night, okay?"

"Wait." The word slipped out of Nancy's mouth before she even thought about whether or not it was a good idea. "Are you leaving soon?"

"I'm here on business." John said, giving her little details. "I'll be here for a while – as long as it takes – and it may take time." John added quickly.

"I see. Well… it was good to see you today, John. I guess I'll see you soon, then?" Nancy added, somewhat hopefully – yet not trying to seem too excited. She hated wearing her heart on her sleeve.

"Definitely." John replied. He was smiling on the other end of the phone. "Have a good night, Nance."

"You too, John." Nancy heard the John hang up on the other end. She put her Blackberry down on the counter and sighed loudly.

Julie looked at Nancy knowingly.

"Screw the coffee, Nancy. Let's open a bottle of pinot noir." Julie said, retrieving two wine glasses from Nancy's cupboard. Nancy smiled in agreement. "What was that about?"

"Just my devilishly handsome ex-husband making an appearance in the never ending movie otherwise known as my life." Nancy retrieved a nice bottle of pinot noir from her liquor cabinet and began to uncork it. "Any news about the house?" Nancy asked, changing the subject.

The blonde secretary from Grant's office had moved into the house that the pair once occupied. Grant had intended to keep the house, whereas Nancy wanted to sell the house and split the profits fifty-fifty.

"The jerk still insists on keeping the damned thing, but it won't stand in court. I'll make him wish he never shacked up with that blonde waif when I'm done with him."

"And this is why we're friends." Nancy said with a smirk as she poured two glasses of a fine pinot noir.

"So, now that we've covered your second ex-husband, why don't we move on to discuss why John Sheppard is back in your life?" Julie took a sip from the wine and smiled in Nancy's direction.

"He needed some information…" Julie raised an eyebrow. "For his job… for some department thing, which I provided him… and he's apparently in Washington on business. And… for the first time in a long time, it seems like he'll be here for a while."

"You know, I think it's a sign, hun." Nancy looked at Julie with a sense of disbelief. "I always liked him. He's a good man, Nancy." Nancy nodded in affirmation of Julie's statement.

"So, you believe in signs now, Ms. Ever Cynical?" Nancy took another sip from her glass of wine and felt her body warm up. Julie laughed a bit.

"Well, when your ex-husband – who happens to be a really good guy – who, by the way, I'm pretty sure never stopped loving you – shows up shortly after some jerk _walks_ out of your life and is going to be in Washington for a _while_…. That's not just a coincidence! That means there's unfinished business – loose ends that still need to be tied up! And both of you know it!"

Nancy giggled a bit, feeling the wine effect her body. "Not so cynical after all, eh?"

"John Sheppard is back for a reason, Nancy. Mark my words."

x.x.x.x.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review – it's the only way we writers on get paid!


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: So, after a really really long hiatus, I've decided to update this story. This is a pretty long chapter compared to previous two. I want to thank Hifield for making me want to look at my little outline for this chapter. After talking with her, I decided to finish up what I had and post it. I also want to thank Wedjatqi for writing beautiful pieces of Fic – her John / Teyla pieces also inspired me to continue writing.

Anyways, I hope that you will all _enjoy this chapter_. I have been thinking about it for a while now! It's so great to finally post it and get it off of my chest. I definitely have ideas for the future chapters to come.

And, of course, as per usual, **reviews are always appreciated**. Show some love, as it's the only way we get paid here on !

**Chapter 3**

It rained the next day.

Nancy looked out of her window and shook her head. The rain only made her feel sleepier than she already was – and she was quite tired. Tired, of course, because thoughts of John kept her up all night. It was so strange to think that he was in the same city – her city – while she was alone in her house. She had hoped, more than anything, that he was alone… but who was she to hope that he hadn't moved on? It had been years.

The rain was loud and it looked as if it was coming down in sheets, falling all over the windows. Above all, it looked cold. It was the type of morning when one woke up and instantly wished to stay in bed. A hot cup of coffee sat next to Nancy's computer; steam was rising off of it and getting lost in the air.

Nancy fingered through the day planner that she kept in her tote bag at all times. Though she had a Blackberry – that she made ample use of – she preferred to write appointments and events down the old fashioned way. The dates didn't seem to matter now, though. As Nancy flipped quickly through the pages, she saw the days flash before her.

The feeling finally hit her – and, of course, she had been feeling this for a long time – that she had been discontented for a long time. The days were no longer filled with excitement. Sure, she had worked hard for her big office with a nicer carpet and two windows – but she had achieved it. She had achieved it and that was that – it seemed like she'd reached the apex of her career.

And then there was John – John Sheppard, who always had that knack for showing up at exactly the right time. Whenever she felt lost – without direction, without any sense of what was next – John, out of nowhere, showed up. Two years prior, after Patrick Sheppard's funeral… she saw John exactly when she realized that Grant could never be what she needed him to be – and at about the same time Grant realized that he didn't love Nancy enough.

"Damn it, John!" Nancy said aloud, rubbing her eyes. It was nine in the morning and she already felt dreadful.

x.x.x.x.

For the first time in years, John Sheppard woke up after nine in the morning. He stretched his body out while still in bed. He was used to a smaller bed in Atlantis. Being alone in a king sized bed was something that struck John as unfamiliar… and just plain strange. It made him feel like he was missing something – or someone. He would have preferred a much smaller bed – it wouldn't have amplified the loneliness that he felt.

John sat up and rubbed his eyes. Rather than feeling refreshed, John felt drained from staying in the hotel. What with the bed's size and the proximity to so many untied, loose ends… it was difficult to sleep at night. He stepped out of bed and stretched his body out further.

He walked to the shower, took off his clothes, and made turned on the water so that it was quite hot. Stepping inside the shower, John pulled the curtain closed and let the water wash over him. Steam rose throughout the bathroom and fogged up the mirrors. John felt like the steam and water envelope his body. As he stood under the hot water motionless, his mind began to wander.

He had wanted to go see Nancy – but he didn't want to disturb her at work. Moreover, he didn't know if she would be embarrassed, or if she didn't want anything to do with him in her place of employment. He would have understood. Massaging shampoo into his scalp, he decided that he would call her later that evening when he was sure she was home for work – and he would talk to her. He was unsure of what he would say, but he was banking on his Sheppard charm.

The largest item on John's agenda for the day was his darkest one. He hadn't seen Captain Holland's wife since the funeral – since the day when he broke away from his wife, Nancy at the burial to speak with Cindy Holland alone… to tell her that he tried everything he could – everything. The memory made him ill.

It was nearing the anniversary of Jason Holland's death – and John wanted to talk to his late friend's wife – with a clearer mind – and find some sense of closure. He was haunted by this – he felt as if he was running from this memory, day after day. When he was angry with himself, he'd often play through the botched rescue mission over and over, chastising himself for waiting too long to break away from the pack to find his friend… chastising himself for not bringing more medical supplies – not that he could have saved him anyways…

More than anything, John hated regret. The hot water continued to hug his body – and he felt no incentive to get out and do anything. He had to see Cindy, though. He needed to, if only to see her smile, so that he would know everything was okay. He needed to see Jason Holland's son – the main reason why John had gone on that ridiculous mission in the first place – and he needed to be able to sleep calmly at night knowing that he had done all he could.

x.x.x.x.

The day went on largely without event. The excitement of the previous day was something that Nancy actually looked back on fondly – it wasn't that she enjoyed sneaking around – it was much more interesting, however, than her desk job. As she perused the myriad files that sat strewn across her desk, she began to feel herself growing restless. It was a strange feeling – and it always happened when John Sheppard was, somehow, in her life.

When she was with John, she remembered him bringing out a side of her that she rarely showed – the side where she threw away the rules, rejected caution, and flew off of auto-pilot. Things had been different after she left him, though. Things had been different.

And she had wanted to trick herself into thinking all along that John had been the one who left – but reality slowly caught up with her as she suffered through her dishonest, dissatisfying, and thankfully brief marriage to Grant. The realization, however, was all the more glaring as John Sheppard had made his way into her life once again.

The first time he needed help – well, that was back when she was trying to keep things on a good note with Grant. She had been slightly scared, deep down, that Grant would find out that she had helped John. In retrospect, that was probably one of the more obvious signs that things with Grant were doomed to fail.

Nancy hoped that her Blackberry would ring. She almost wished that Jack O'Neill would find his way into her office once again – and that they would discuss things that made her work feel important. She knew her work _was_ important – it was with the Department of Homeland Security, after all – but she couldn't help but feel that Jack O'Neill and her ex-husband were working on things that were bigger and more meaningful.

Much to Nancy's chagrin, her Blackberry didn't ring. Her secretary, Jane, didn't announce any visitors. She had desperately hoped that Jack O'Neill would show up – for some reason, she felt as if he was some sort of missing piece. She felt like Jack O'Neill was a means for her to get to know John better. As Nancy continued through her day's work, she realized, above all, that she had a problem.

She didn't love what she was doing, and it was painfully apparent.

A problem, indeed.

x.x.x.x.x.

John stepped out of the black sedan and tapped it on the roof, indicating that he no longer needed the driver. He had decided to walk the next four blocks to Cindy Holland's house – he needed time to collect his thoughts. He hadn't thought about what he'd say to her. He hadn't seen her in ages and he had no idea of what to expect. Above all, he worried that she wanted nothing to do with him.

The leaves rustled in the wind; the dancing zephyrs brought a few down onto the sidewalk. John could see children running down the sidewalk; the leaves crunched beneath their feet. The children laughed and smiled, caught up in their own games – completely unaware of the world around them.

As John neared Cindy's house, he felt his feet get heavier. A sense of dread washed over him. He would have much preferred to be walking through the Stargate, even if it meant facing an enemy across the event horizon. At least he'd know what to do. He'd fight his enemy relying on a mixture of his physical strength and his mental prowess.

This impending fight, however, had little to do with physical strength. It came down to mental fortitude. When it came to Jason Holland and the family he left behind, however, this was incredibly difficult.

John continued to walk down the road until he eventually got to the walkway that he knew led to Cindy's front door. He cautiously walked down the stone path and made his way up the three steps to Cindy Holland's front door.

Standing tall, John pressed on the doorbell and prepared for the unknown. Moments later, John could hear the front door's latch begin to open. Seconds later, the door open and he was met with the beautiful face of Cindy Holland.

"John Sheppard." Cindy said incredulously. The faint laughter of two boys could be heard reverberating throughout the house. The sounds were not lost on John. He stood up straight, summoning all of the courage within him to look directly into Cindy Holland's eyes.

John looked down quickly, trying to find the words. He glanced back up at Cindy. She was smiling slightly.

"I'm not the best person… at this sorta thing…" John started. He ran a hand through his hair, seemingly unsure of what to say next.

"Come in, John." Cindy said with a smile, opening her door wider and motioning for John to come into her home. It had been years since the two had seen each other. Those first few years had been so hard for Cindy. Raising baby Eric had been incredibly difficult – he had, after all, looked so much like his father. Sometimes, Cindy found herself unable to look at Eric – those first few months had been so arduous. She hated herself for feeling that way – her son, after all, had done nothing wrong. _Nobody_ had done anything wrong.

As the years passed, Cindy slowly healed. She had never remarried. The second boy in her home was Eric's cousin – her sister's son. The two boys had now moved out into the backyard and were playing football. They were loud and full of life – as young boys that age should be. Thinking about them brought a rosy pink tint to Cindy's cheeks. Whenever she thought about the bad parts – the really terrible, empty parts – hearing her son laugh would bring her back to reality. Her reality, she realized, was actually quite beautiful.

John followed Cindy through the quaint little home. He thought that Cindy had done very well for herself. Photographs were placed throughout the home; a few throw pillows were artfully placed on the furniture in the living room. The walls held paintings and photographs – photographs mainly of the seashore. John had remembered, many years ago, a trip that he, Nancy, Cindy, and Jason had taken to Virginia Beach. John and Jason had decided to drive out on a whim. The four packed small bags and jumped in John's old Chevy Nova convertible. The car ride should have taken a while, but time flew by so quickly.

As John thought about those memories, he realized that he would have done almost anything to have them back. Cindy noticed him staring at a photograph of the sunset at Virginia Beach. John instantly knew where the photo was taken; he knew he had been there before and experienced that very moment.

"Those were good times, John." Cindy said with a smile. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No." John said solidly. "Virginia Beach." John added quietly, still looking at the photo. Cindy looked on. Their silence was broken, however, as the two boys burst into the house. They ran straight to the fridge.

"Please sit down, John." As Cindy said those words, her doorbell rang. She was expecting her sister – she was coming to pick up her son. The younger boy ran right to the door. He had quickly changed in to bits and pieces of his football uniform.

"See you later Aunt Cindy!" The boy said enthusiastically. He was missing his two front teeth.

"Good luck at your game, Jake! Go team!" Cindy said with a laugh as she saw her sister standing in the doorway. Her sister gave her a thankful look as she held a cellphone pressed to her ear. She was in a rush and was truly grateful that Cindy was able to watch her son while she was at a doctor's appointment.

"Thanks Cind! We're on for tomorrow?" Her sister inquired after she ended her call. She, as well as her son, didn't notice the man sitting in the living room couch, shielded from the doorway. Cindy was grateful. She didn't want to explain anything – not now.

"Sure thing, Emily. Have a good one." Cindy smiled. She shut the door and she saw the two making their way to the car parked in front of the house.

John felt incredibly uncomfortable. He had almost felt guilty for intruding on some secret family moment that he felt he had no right to be privy to. Cindy briefly disappeared into the kitchen and retrieved two bottles of Budweiser. She quickly opened the bottles with a bottle opener and brought them into the living room.

"Cindy, that isn't necessary." John said plainly.

"I see that you're still a stubborn as hell guy, Sheppard. Take the beer." Cindy winked. "I'd be offended if you didn't." She added with a quick laugh.

"Well, in that case…" John said with a slight smirk. He was happy that Cindy was still feisty. He took a sip of his beer and tried to relax.

"It's been a very long time, John." Cindy stated. "I haven't seen you since Jason's funeral." Her words straight to the point. John winced.

"I'm…" John started. "As I said earlier, I'm not the best at this sort of thing."

"What sort of thing is this, John?" Cindy inquired, raising an eyebrow. She took a sip of her beer and eyed John.

"I wanted to apologize." He said the words quickly, as if he was ripping a bandage off of his skin. "I'm sorry. I couldn't bring him home, Cindy. I tried. I tried so hard." John looked down. He felt his face getting red. He tried to hide all of his emotions. It was becoming difficult. "I'm so sorry."

Cindy's eyes grew red and she felt them filling with tears.

"You don't get it, do you?" She said, almost laughing at John's stubbornness. "You don't understand, John. You brought Jason home." John looked straight at her and she could see that his eyes, too, were red. "You brought him home. The doctors told me that he wouldn't have lived even if you got to him sooner, John. If it wasn't for you, John, he would have been left to rot in some God-forsaken bumble-fuck piece of desert. He would have died alone, John. He wouldn't have had anybody." Tears were falling freely from her face.

John was crying, but he was not ashamed.

"He was like a brother to me." John said quietly. "He was _better_ than my own brother – flesh and blood. He was... he was my family…"

"And that's why I am so grateful for you, John Sheppard." Cindy pulled her sweater over her body. She was cold. "You risked everything – just to bring a man home. You defied orders. What you did… it was practically illegal. You stole a chopper to fly into a piece of heavily occupied territory to rescue my husband. You saw his chopper go down, John. I read the report. You saw it take a huge hit and you knew that there was a slim chance Jason could have survived. Yet you still went."

"It was what I had to do." John answered her strongly.

"I know, John. And because you went, my husband died next to his brother. I thank God for you, John." John looked down, feeling that he didn't live up to Cindy's words. "I know you don't believe in that stuff. I know you so well, you know that? But still… when I tuck my son into bed every night, I thank God for you. Knowing that he had somebody – that he wasn't alone – that's the only way I got through those first three years. I could barely live with myself – but your sacrifice got me out of bed every morning. Your sacrifice was how I functioned… for my son…"

"I'm so sorry, Cindy." John's body shook.

"Are you apologizing for your actions?"

John shook his head. Cindy was right.

"What you did was honorable." Cindy got up from her seat and sat next to John and pulled him into a tight hug. Their tears stained each other's shirts.

John pulled away after a few moments.

"I'm apologizing because I want things to be different." He said quietly, his eyes now dry. "It haunts me…" He added quietly.

"I am sorry – for that same reason…" Cindy stated, regaining her composure. "But we can't change that. It happened." Cindy could hear her son now, in the back of the house, watching a cartoon on the TV that was in the kitchen. He had enjoyed old re-runs of a cartoon named Johnny Quest.

"I have somebody you need to meet, John." John nodded. This moment, he realized, would make everything different. "Eric!" Cindy called out with a bright voice. "I have a friend that here that I want introduce you to!"

Eric turned off the TV and came into the living room. John rose to meet the boy.

"Eric, this is Mr. Sheppard." Cindy walked over to her son and held his hand, as she walked with him closer to John. "He was a very good friend of your daddy's." Eric's eyes widened. It was rare that his mother spoke with him about his father – and he truly relished in those moments. He had seen pictures of his father. His father was so strong looking, he thought – especially in his decorated Air Force uniform. "Mr. Sheppard is also a very good friend of mine. I've known him for a long time, Eric." Eric smiled. He was missing a few of his teeth. John smiled as he realized how much the boy looked like Jason.

John had expected to feel sadness upon seeing the boy, but he felt nothing of the sort. A happiness swelled within him that he could not explain: perhaps, he realized, this was pure joy. He had felt this feeling before, but it occurred very rarely. That this young boy could elicit such a reaction from deep within him shocked him.

"Hey Eric." John said, getting down on his knees so he could stand eye to eye with the boy. The boy smiled. "You can call me John." John raised an eyebrow and reached out to shake the boy's hand. The boy returned the gesture. His eyes were wide and dark blue – the same color eyes as Jason.

It was at that very moment that John realized the magnitude of what had transpired in Afghanistan. He realized, as he shook the boy's little hand, that had he not gone back for Jason, he would not have been able to face Eric Jason Holland. The small boy would have reduced him to tears – seeing his face and the resemblance he bore with his father would have torn him apart. He would not have been able to live with himself.

As John kneeled across from the boy, he realized that everything had happened for a reason. He knew when he stole that chopper that Jason would be far beyond rescue. When he fired those shots across the sand dunes at the enemy targets, he knew that he wouldn't be able to solve all of the problems at hand. He knew when he had stolen that chopper that it very well could have been a one-way trip.

And he knew, deep down, that Jason didn't have a chance. But he still went.

He went because of Cindy Holland – feisty, five foot three woman with a penchant for classic rock and hiking – who sat at home six months pregnant with Jason Holland's son. He went because he needed to go home to Nancy knowing that he did all he could. He went because of that baby boy – unborn, yet very much alive within his mind – and he went because he knew that the needed to make things right.

"John Sheppard." Eric said with a smile. "You knew my dad?"

"Like a brother." John answered honestly. He smiled. He could only think of happy memories now. There was something about the boy – something that made him only want to think about the irrepressible joy that he felt.

"Can I call you Uncle John, then?" Eric asked sheepishly. He already had an uncle – his cousin Jake's dad – but Jake's dad never knew his father. John did!

"Eric!" Cindy exclaimed with a laugh.

John rose from the ground and looked down at the boy. He then turned to Cindy. Their eyes met and Cindy nodded with a smile.

"Yeah, Eric." John smiled. He looked at the boy once again, feeling a sense of hope that he could not describe. "You can."

Cindy could feel her eyes swelling with tears once again. Yes, she reasoned, everything _did_ happen for a reason.

"Wanna play catch? Jake's gone and I don't have anybody to play with." The boy pouted and looked directly up at John.

Cindy looked at John and smiled.

"How can anybody say no to this guy?" John joked, looking at Cindy.

"Eric is quite the charmer, John." Cindy sighed and thought of Jason. "I mean, it's what you'd expect, right?"

"Exactly what I'd expect." John looked back at Eric and then looked through the window. There were still about two hours left of daylight. "I have a little bit of time, Eric. Wanna show me to the backyard?"

The boy smiled enthusiastically and bolted through the house. He ran out the door to the backyard and quickly scrambled to get his football. John followed the boy and moments later stood about twenty feet away from him. The two threw the football back and forth.

Like uncle and nephew.

Cindy stood in the dining room and looked through her bay window, gazing at the sight that had unfolded before her. She always had this ability – an ability that Nancy Stevens had envied, to be quite frank – the ability to see right through John. She had seen his unhappiness the moment he stepped into her home. She could feel his sense of longing for something better. She wondered, immediately, if he had managed to seek out Nancy.

Unbeknownst to John, Nancy and Cindy had stayed in touch. Once a month, they would go out for lunch and discuss their lives. They never talked about John or Jason – they were taboo topics that the two women never brought up. Cindy walked to her fridge and gazed at her calendar. She had a lunch date with Nancy in two days – and as she thought about John and Eric playing ball in her yard, she realized that she would have to break the rules and talk to Nancy about John… She knew that he never stopped loving her – and damn it, she was sick of seeing the two so painfully unfulfilled.

Cindy had a hunch that Nancy would be alone tonight – alone as she had been every night since Grant had left her. She also had a strange feeling that bit at her – a feeling that John, a man who was near impossible to find, came to Virginia for a reason. For the past few years, Cindy had tried to contact John through her contacts in the Air Force, many of whom were men who had served with Jason. Much to Cindy's chagrin, they all returned to her saying the same thing: whatever John was involved in, it was highly dangerous and highly secret.

If John, then, was back in Virginia dressed in civilian clothes… he clearly had something up his sleeve. Cindy made a mental note of discussing this with Nancy at their lunch date that was two days away. If John was up to something, Cindy had a hunch that Nancy was somehow involved in his return.

x.x.x.x.x.

A/N: Show some love! Give me ideas/criticisms/whatever! Didn't like something about this chapter! I wanna know!


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